


Things Aren't Always Black and White.

by OmegaSuperHero



Series: Original stories [2]
Category: Alternate Universe - Fandom, Personal - Fandom
Genre: Death, Depression, Original Female Characters - Freeform, Other, Searching, black and white, colour, happiness, reader/OFC - Freeform, soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmegaSuperHero/pseuds/OmegaSuperHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things may feel black and white for the longest time, but they always look up eventually!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Aren't Always Black and White.

You lie awake in bed, struggling to find the strength to get up and start your day, this has been an increasing problem for a few years now. Sighing sadly, you lift yourself out of bed and trudge over to the bathroom to start getting ready. Today, like every day, you stare in the mirror, at that hateful mirror that reflects a world devoid of colour and you choke back a sob at the harsh reality that has been your life for the past 50 years. Your world has been black and white your entire life, where every one of your friends have made the transition to colour within the past 20. You finish brushing your teeth, washing your face etc, without looking in the mirror more than is necessary, before traipsing back through to the bedroom to pick out an outfit, it doesn't matter what you wear anymore, since you've long since lost the hope that you'll find the one person you want to impress anyway.

An hour later, you make your way out of the house and start to walk down the street, ignoring the polite and piteous glances of your neighbours, trying to make small talk with you in an attempt to brighten your spirits.  
Please, just leave me alone, you whisper softly, knowing that none of them will bring some colour to your world and, for that reason, you have no patience for them anymore. You see so many people who, despite walking alone, have an air of purpose about them, of complete serenity and bliss, and you know they have found their soulmate, their own true love, their other half, and it makes you feel sick. Actually, it makes you feel so sick that you end up retching into a bush for a few endless minutes, despite having skipped breakfast for the 5th day in a row. Wiping your mouth and popping a few mints, this is becoming a regular occurrence (hence the lack of breakfast), you continue on your way down the street, aiming for the subway about 15 minutes away.

You stop at the zebra crossing with a small crowd, patiently waiting for the light to change when somebody nudges your elbow, presumably by accident so you turn to let them apologise. Your eyes travel up the curved figure until they rest on a cheerful, homely face and your entire world explodes around you and you find yourself gasping for air, vaguely aware that this other woman is doing exactly the same as you. A mere few moments later, you start to calm down slightly, catching hold of your breath as you stare at the woman's face again, taking in every minute detail. You know who she is, you just know and she's brought the colour into your world that you never thought you'd see and you can't seem to process how beautiful everything is. The world you'd been surviving in was horrific, but she.. She's brought it to life, she's brought you to life, purely by existing, and you think that nobody has ever been so perfect, so important, in history and you realise you've both linked hands at some point, that she's most likely thinking the exact same things as you, and that neither of you are letting go of each other.

Bloody hell, you murmur, staring into her pale blue eyes with sheer wonder, I'm.. She puts a finger on your lips, a smile gracing her own, names don't matter yet, do they? she asks hesitantly, stroking your lower lip as she spoke, her voice like warm, spiced milk and you found you'd been missing that sound your whole life, that you wouldn't be able to survive another day without hearing that voice whispering at you from under the covers, or across the breakfast table. You shake your head at her, pressing a soft kiss to her fingertip and earing the sweetest laugh in response. Oh god, she tinkled like windchimes, you don't know how you've survived for so long without her.  
Good, where are you.. Going? she asks you, lacing her fingers through yours in anticipation for the light changing. Well, I was actually just going for lunch, if.. If you'd like to join me, I'd very much like to get to know you. She smiles brightly, lips parting in her joy as the lights change.

Without another word, you both move with the crowd in crossing the street. You want to look around you, to view the once bleak city now awash with colour, but you find that all the colour you'll ever need again is soaked into the angel gripping your hand, a most illegal blush dusting across her cheekbones in obvious happiness. You're both so entranced by each other that you don't noticed the crowd dispersing in all directions, neither of you notice the screaming, or the screeching car brakes. In fact, you don't notice anything until you blink and her face is gone, you clench and her hand has disappeared, the screaming gets louder, closer, harsher. You blink rapidly and glance around, confused, until you see the devastation a few feet beyond, the car parked haphazardly across the road, the body.. Oh God, the body, no.. The world is still lush, vibrant colour sitll cascading, flooding your senses, as you walk slowly towards the car, pushing through the crowd. You feel as if you're walking through treacle, unable to get any real speed behind you. But it's okay, because the colours are still here, she's alive, there's still a chance, still hope. You feel your breath coming easier with every step, convinced that she'll be okay as long as you can see colours, but.. Oh.

I could have done without knowing the colour of her blood, you whisper sorrowfully as you drop to your knees beside her and, just as you take her hand to let her know you're there, her pale blue eyes holding yours in fear.. You blink and those eyes have gone grey, her blood is grey, the world, your world, has returned with a painful vengeance. You held bliss for 10 minutes, true happiness. You knew what love was for 10 gorgeous minutes, and now you'll never see colour again, only the most fleeting memories wrapped around her voice, her spiced milk voice. Ignoring the gathering crowd and emergency services, you lie down beside her and take her in your arms, you close your eyes and pretend she's sleeping, that colours will return when you open your eyes again. You wish you'd never gotten out of bed this morning, colours aren't worth this pain.


End file.
